


Oh, God / Oh, Darling

by requestables



Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Paul, Crossdressing, Lingerie, M/M, Paul in lingerie, Smut, Top John, Vibrators, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-07
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-24 06:12:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19717846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/requestables/pseuds/requestables
Summary: John buys Paul some new... clothes. Definitely men's clothes. 100%. Yup. Definitely.





	1. Chapter 1

"Oh, God," Paul breathed, shaking his head, "Oh, God." He repeated softly.

When John had said that he had bought Paul some new clothes and trinkets, Paul thought he meant new jeans, new shirts, hell, new fucking  _ socks, _ but not- not this. He didn't even  _ think  _ it could have been this - he  _ never  _ would have thought. It seemed like John had been thinking about this for a while, from the excited look in his eyes - he looked anticipated. Oh, God. 

"Are you- are you kidding me?" He sputtered, eyes darting between John's face and the bag, the smug look of his face and the white, seemingly boring bag -  _ seemingly  _ being the key word. Apparently, the plain white was supposed to - what? Mask the contents of the bag? Make it seem less obvious? 

“Don’t- don’t we have shows tonight?” Paul asked, trying to avoid looking into John’s eyes. John shook his head with a small smirk.

John had bought him women's lingerie, skirts, a fucking  _ dress,  _ garters, stockings, thigh highs - Paul couldn't tell whether this was a joke to make fun of him for being 'pretty' or to call him a 'dirty little queer' or if he  _ actually  _ wanted to see him in those clothes - he would definitely not be wearing them. 

They were quite pretty, though - the colours would bring out his eyes and the black lace would contrast with his pale skin, the pale skin of his thighs -  _ fuck _ , Paul would _ never _ . He would  _ not  _ wear them, no matter what John said, no matter how hard he pleaded. It would _ not _ happen. John wanted to dress him up like a fucking  _ tart.  _

He'd look amazing, though. He really would. All dolled up for John, legs shaved, makeup and everything -  _ oh, God.  _ He'd look a treat in thigh highs, his plump, beautiful thighs on display, the bottoms of his panties showing, soft lace. Mascara would bring his eyes out even more so than before, his pretty lashes painted black, making his eyes look wider, bigger than before. 

And he'd fuck him like that, too. John would pull down his knickers and  _ fuck him  _ hard - he'd leave the skirt on, though, so it could pool around Paul's hips, leave the thigh highs on so John could feel the fabric rubbing against his own hips when Paul wrapped his legs around him. So he could  _ remember.  _ Remember  _ everything.  _ Every word, every touch, every texture, every hitched breath, every moan - everything. 

"Oh, please, Paulie?" John pleaded with him, eyes raking over his body, his posture that said 'are you fuckin' kidding me, Lennon'. Then, Paul sighed, deep and long. He looked at John with a blank expression. 

"Fine, but you  _ better _ fuck me  _ good  _ later." He said, grabbed the bag and walked off to the bedroom to get dressed up, dolled up - just for John.  _ Only _ for John. He was John's. 

  
  


*

  
  


Paul stood in front of the full-body mirror and scoffed at his reflection. He didn't have the curvy hips for that skirt, didn't have the right legs - women's legs - for those thigh highs, didn't have the  _ confidence  _ for any of it. He thought of John and how happy he'd be to see him in all of this, all dressed up for him, Paul could tell John had been thinking about this for a while, judging by the look on his face when he asked. 

He placed the bag on the sink and ran a hand through his hair. 

"Oh, God," He whispered to himself again, clutching the sink tightly - he stared at that white bag and hoped that maybe it's explode if he stared hard enough. 

It didn't. 

He could do this. 

For John. For his John. 

Paul stood up straight once more and opened the bag, pulling out the lace panties and thigh highs - he'd have to shave his legs before anything else, make them smooth and bird-like. He was so jealous of all the birds that could pull of clothes like this, all the birds who looked fucking amazing in tight skirts and red lipstick. He wished he could look that good, look that natural. Oh,  _ God _ . 

He sat on the side of the bathtub and pulled off his jeans, staring down at his hairy legs, sighing - they'd be smooth after, they'd feel so nice under his hands, his legs would, and John would love it, too. And so, with that thought in his mind, he began. 

It took longer than he thought it would, squirting on shaving scream, shaving the same strips of his skin and then rinsing the razor every single time - it was a long process, especially since he'd never done it before, he wasn't an expert like all those girls. He was not an expert at any of this, but did he need to be? He'd be okay, right? He'd be okay.

He shaved carefully up and around his thighs, right up near his arse, which almost made him laugh, and down to his ankles - they were completely shaved. Smooth and warm. He ran his hands up and down his own legs gently, tracing every single part of them to make sure he'd shaved everywhere, and, well, he had. The smoothness felt amazing and he never wanted to stop running his hands over his bare skin, but he obviously had to. God, he already felt like a tart - like some cheap prostitute, legs shaven, about to get dressed up for the men. 

He was getting dressed up for John, instead. 

It sounded weird everytime he thought it, but at the same time, it wasn't bad. It was  _ not  _ bad. 

All his doubts, thoughts about John doing this just to make fun of him, just to hurt him had been long forgotten, and he fully believed in John, fully trusted him with his everything. His  _ everything.  _

He showered very quickly, washing his hair with some  _ Lovely Lavender  _ shit they had. Seriously, who the fuck comes up with these names? Two year olds? Can two year olds even speak? Paul's mind wondered for a minute before he snapped back into reality, looking around the room. He dropped the towel that was around his waist and walked back to the sink, to the bag, to the lace  _ fucking  _ panties - oh, God. 

He stared at them for a second and then rolled his eyes, pulling them up his legs. He looked at his reflection. They didn't look bad, actually. In fact, they looked amazing on him. He was surprised, he was very fucking surprised. 

They were black with a pink top, the lace reaching up to his stomach and down his thighs a little, it wasn't the main part of them, as the fabric that reached his stomach was thinner than the rest of it. 

Next, he pulled on the thigh highs, which were also black - they contrasted with his pale skin beautifully, showing off the milky colour of his thighs and rubbing against the softness of his recently shaved legs. They were- God, they looked great, especially with his panties. They looked beautiful on him. Wow. 

John would love this, he really would. 

It didn't take him long to put everything else on. The garter straps, pink, matched his panties and clipped on easily, perfect against his thighs - John always seemed to have a thing for Paul's thighs. The skirt was so fucking gorgeous, it had a plaid pattern and was mostly black, the lines being pink, like the garter straps - it was flowy and hung around above his knees, quite a bit above so that the tops of his thigh highs were showing but not far enough up so his panties were. 

John had bought him a black top, one that he could tuck into his skirt - it had small white dots all over it and was very slightly see through. He liked it.

He'd looked in the full body mirror multiple times since he entered the bathroom, and each time he seemed to like his appearance a little bit more, each time he became even more aware of the situation, and oh, God, he felt sick. He felt sick and he felt  _ desire  _ and the need to please - that need to please was there all the time, especially while he was with John. John awoke something in him that he hardly ever felt, a burning desire and passion for one person, that included the need to please him at any cost. Paul had given him so much money, so much of his personal belongings that at one point he barely owned  _ anything _ , because John was more important to him than himself. As long as John was happy, he was too.

That was part of the reason he was doing this.

He picked up the mascara and let it hover over his eyelashes for a second, before he sighed and put it back down. He couldn’t do that, wear makeup, he just- he just couldn’t, and so, he didn’t. John would understand that, right? It wasn’t a big deal. He hoped it wasn’t a big deal.

He was ready.

He was all dressed up and ready - he looked hot, honestly, as hot as he could be while looking like a fucking queer, but hot nonetheless. Oh, God - he didn’t feel sick anymore, only fascinated. Would John really like this?

“Paul?” It was John, of course it would. He was taken from his thoughts abruptly, almost screaming with sudden shock, before he laughed quietly. It was probably fine, Paul thought, it was only him, after all - it’d be fine.

“I’m coming!” Paul replied before checking himself in the mirror once more. He grabbed onto the door handle and unlocked the door, letting it creak open slowly. The bathroom connected to their hotel room, where John was sat on the bed, waiting patiently (well, not  _ patiently _ ).

John stared at Paul for a long minute before he smiled gently, not wanting to scare Paul off - the younger had worry etched into his face, as if he was - what? Scared? It seemed like that. It definitely looked like that - fear. The fear was back, even stronger, the confidence he had felt before was completely gone as he stood, exposed, in front of John - oh, God, oh, God, oh, God-

“I’m sorry, I- I look really bad and I’ll go g-get dressed n-now, sorry-” He stuttered, turning red - the fear was almost unbearable, and he turned to run back into the bathroom, to take everything off and hide from humanity forever. He was stopped by John, who grabbed his wrist with urgency.

“Oh, darling, don’t you dare,” He pulled him in for a fierce kiss, pushing him up against the wall, “You look fucking gorgeous, love, fuckin’ hell.” John seemed to be telling the truth as he stared down at Paul with a growing erection, he looked fucking beautiful and he couldn’t believe that Paul didn’t think so himself - he was the most beautiful person  _ ever _ .

“Really?” Paul asked, eyes wide and skirt fluttering around his thighs, looking so amazing on him. He looked innocent, although he looked like a prostitute.

“Fuck yes, princess.” He gripped Paul’s arse and pulled him back against him so their chests were right up together, lips merely millimeters away. Paul could feel John’s hot breath against his lips, and then they kissed, slowly. It was way slower this time, a kiss filled with love and happiness rather than desire and passion.

“Thank you, John,” Paul smiled at him, feeling John’s hands move up from his arse and to the base of his neck, and they kissed once more.

“How do you want me, princess? Rough?”

“Rough, please, oh, God, please,” Paul begged.

John pushed Paul down onto their bed and planted another kiss on his lips before shifting between the younger’s legs, his lips finding their way to his neck, where he licked and sucked and bit, and then down to his chest, where he pushed the fabric of Paul’s shirt down to admire his perfect skin, his perfect Paulie.

That was the start of a fucking amazing night.

Oh, God, oh, Darling.


	2. Chapter 2

John gripped onto Paul's hips as he snapped his hips up into him. Paul, writhing underneath John, breathy moans escaping his parted lips, thought about the situation. 

He lay on their hotel bed, in a skirt and thigh highs, legs wrapped tightly around John's waist as the older fucked him. The skirt had fallen back and his dick was on show, flush against his stomach - his thigh highs had stayed up perfectly, though, even without the garter straps. He thought back to when John pulled his panties off, he had used his teeth to pull them down, before he went down on Paul like some  _ bird _ \- he was pleasantly surprised when John's tongue licked over his hole. 

"You're  _ mine."  _ John thrust upwards harder than before, making Paul moan loudly, louder, even - he knew that John could go even harder and faster than this, but he seemed to be holding back for some reason. He knew that Paul liked it rough, liked it when John took him as he pleased, but he was hesitating - why? Paul thought about it for a second before ultimately deciding to try and… persuade him.

“If I’m yours then why don’t you fuck me like I am! Or,” Paul smirked when John’s hips stuttered as he processed what the younger had said, “I’ll find another man to.”

At that moment, something in John changed. His eyes darkened and he gripped Paul’s hips together, thrusting up even fucking harder than before, making Paul jolt with each snap of his hips, “Oh, oh, oh, John! Johnny,” He made a noise, a mix between a high-pitched moan and a needy whine. The bed rocked and hit the wall, creating a continuously banging noise that filled their room - the others could probably hear it (though they probably didn’t mind as Bob Dylan was in George and Ringo’s room, and they weren’t exactly quite) but John and Paul didn’t care.

“I can fuck you better than anyone, Paul, and you fucking  _ know  _ it,” John growled, kissing Paul harshly as he carried on thrusting, almost pulling out all the way and then slamming back in, over and over again, “You’re  **mine** \- say it, princess, say it.”

Paul whimpered and tightened his legs around John’s waist, pulling him in closer, pushing him in deeper. He could feel the head of John’s cock against his prostate as he spoke, making his voice shake, “I’m yours, Johnny! Yours, all yours, only yours, please, Johnny!” He babbled, it almost sounded nonsensical to him, but he had no need to sound sensical while John was fucking him so good, so hard - everything revolved around John,  _ everything. _

“Oh, fuck,” John whispered, biting down on Paul’s neck as he felt himself getting closer to his climax, “You’re fucking beautiful.”

His hand wrapped around Paul’s dick and he began quickly pumping him, making the younger yell out in pleasure, John’s dick hitting amazing places within him as he wanked him off - it was all too much and Paul fucking loved it. 

With a broken moan, Paul came first. His hole clenched around John’s dick which made the older’s breath hitch, he looked down at Paul with those darkened eyes, a possessiveness obvious from the way he looked at him - he looked at Paul with a deep admiration, a certain love that only he wanted to have for Paul, nobody else could have him,  _ you’re mine,  _ his eyes were saying. And then John came, soon after Paul, while looking straight into his eyes, filling the younger with his hot come - Paul knew that’d be hard to get out and wash off, as it would drip down his thighs when he stood. He almost moaned at the thought of John wanting it to stay inside him, to keep a little of himself inside him, something that John would  _ probably  _ do.

Paul’s legs dropped onto the bed when John moved to stand up from the bed, still spread as he couldn’t be bothered to move them much, “C’mon, baby, let’s shower, yeah?” John asked quietly, attempting to persuade him to get up, but to no avail. Paul didn’t move, he merely shook his head and spoke.

“My arse hurts. My legs hurt. I don’t want to get up.”

“I’ll help you,” John offered, sitting back on the bed, but further up so that he was closer to Paul’s head. He stroked Paul’s hair out of his face, swiping sweaty strands behind his ears gently, “C’mon,” He smiled sweetly and helped Paul up. The younger groaned and tried to move, but his arse fucking hurt when he tried to stand - he tried again and again until John’s arms hooked under his legs and around his back to pick him up bridal-style, carrying him to the bathroom.

“Bath or shower?” John asked, setting a naked Paul down on the bathroom side, next to the sink. The side was cold and very slightly wet, but it numbed the pain a tiny bit - it didn’t hurt  _ really  _ bad, but it did hurt, probably because he persuaded John to fuck him harder than he already was - he shivered. His legs were flat against the cold marble too, impossibly colder, for some reason.

A warm bath sounded nice.

“Bath, please, Johnny,” Paul replied, leaning back and resting his head against the mirror of the above-sink cupboard. He really needed a bath.

John smiled and nodded before filling the bath with hot, soapy water, making Paul want to jump in and stay there forever, he knew the hot water would relax his muscles and help the pain a little, so that was good, and he’d have an excuse to stay naked with his Johnny, which was definitely a plus. 

The two got into the bath and stayed there for about half an hour before they finally decided to get out, now completely clean and fresh, no come or anything on either of them. John had laughed in full amusement when Paul attempted to get it out of him, making the younger blush the whole time. John wouldn’t be laughing if it were him, would he? Fuck no, he’d probably cry. Now you’re just lying to yourself, Paul thought, giggling internally.

“I know we just got clean, but… I want to try something.” John said as soon as they left the bathroom, both naked and wrapped in towels. “Don’t get dressed yet.”

“Okay?” Paul said suspiciously, watching as John got dressed in front of him, why did he have to stay naked? Why not them both or neither? Paul felt exposed, and not in a good way - he felt embarrassed, like John would laugh at any second - he hated it, being the only one naked. He stood silently nonetheless.

“You’re still stretched?” The older asked, breaking Paul out of his thoughts abruptly - he nodded in response, which made John smirk softly. What the hell was he planning? It was obvious he wanted to do something sexual just from the look on his face - arched eyebrows, the smirk, just… everything about him gave Paul a weird feeling that he was planning  _ something  _ of that nature.

“Good. Up on the bed, legs spread.” John ordered and watched as Paul obeyed before walking over to his bags. As far as Paul was concerned, those bags were filled with clothes and other belongings, but to his surprise, John retrieved a bottle of lube (a different one, he had multiple) and a purple vibrator. It was large and Paul felt himself involuntarily spread his legs wider, wanting it so bad despite just having a bath. 

“Eager, aren’t you?” John chuckled softly and sat between Paul’s legs, spreading his thighs wider than he already had. “Now,” He kissed the inside of Paul’s thigh and smiled up at him, eyes shining because of the dim light that seeped through the curtains, “I’m going to put this inside you. Brian arranged for us, George, Ringo and Bob to go out to dinner tonight,” He lubed the top of the vibrator, “You have to leave it in the whole time.”

“Oh, God, Johnny,” Paul said, “Is that it?” He asked, his voice had an edge to it now, something that sounded like fear but wasn’t quite  _ fear,  _ he sounded… pleasantly nervous. If that was even an emotion, Paul was feeling it, and it was obvious.

“I have something else too,” The older stated, pushing the vibrator against Paul’s hole but not pushing it in yet, “A remote, it changes the vibration level and I’ll have it with me while we’re out.” Then he pushed it in, finally, and was surprised when it went in easily - Paul was definitely still stretched, even if it’d been almost an hour - John almost laughed. He didn’t, though. 

Paul could feel himself getting hard and he tried to will himself down, because, fuck, they were going out soon and he’d had sex not even an hour ago - it didn’t work and he moaned, feeling John turn the vibrator on when it was completely inside him.

He assumed it was on its lowest setting, but then John looked at him and smirked. A loud humming noise filled the room and Paul’s body jolted as John turned it right up to a higher setting, definitely one of the highest ones. He could feel it vibrating violently inside him and he closed his eyes, moaning louder every second until he thought that maybe he could cry, he was suddenly so desperate. He heard John whisper something about how gorgeous he looked but he wasn’t focused enough to tell exactly what he said, all he could focus on was the vibrator and his need to come. He would  _ not  _ be leaving with a boner, this was John’s fault, John would deal with it.

And he did. His hand wrapped, once again, around Paul’s dick, and he began jerking him off. That mixed with the feeling of the vibrator inside him made him come extremely quickly in hot spurts up against his stomach and chest - he could tell John was astonished too, “I didn’t realise they were  _ that  _ good.” The older commented in amusement.

He got some tissue from the bathroom and wiped the come off of Paul slowly, making sure to get every bit - he did this while thinking about what he’d have Paul wear while they were out.

Tight leather jeans sounded very appropriate, not easy to get off, but Paul always looked amazing in them. Nah, he’d let Paul decide. Paul looked amazing in anything. Now that he thought about it, Eppy would probably want them to wear suits of some kind, of which they had many as Brian always supplied them with endless suits for some reason. Didn’t they have enough?

“Oh shit, I have to change into a suit now. I forgot Eppy bought us all suits for a reason,” John laughed at himself and helped Paul up, retrieving their two best suits from the small wardrobe that was adjacent to the bed, along the same wall, “Now c’mon, get dressed.”

He threw Paul’s onto the bed beside him, watching as he shifted uncomfortably. This would be fun.

Paul got dressed slower than John did, as every tiny movement of his ended with the vibrator moving a little - it  _ was  _ uncomfortable, but not completely  _ bad.  _ He had no idea how he’d react around everyone else at the table when John decided to turn it on, he’d just have to wait and find out. He didn’t really want to be embarrassed in front of his best mates and a fellow musician, but he wanted to please John, and it did please him, all of this. In front of his fucking manager, their fucking band manager, he’d have something as filthy as this inside him - God, he would never have thought he would be doing this. He found himself surprised when the whole ordeal didn’t sound like something that  _ wouldn’t  _ happen, or  _ couldn’t  _ happen.

He knew that the night ahead would be eventful, and he wasn’t sure he was really ready yet. Wait and see, yeah? Wait and see.


	3. Chapter 3

"What if they get suspicious?" Paul asked in worry after taking his seat at the table. Bob, George and Rich weren't here yet so it was just them and Brian, who seemed fairly uncomfortable - probably because of John and Paul whispering to one another and ignoring him. 

John smirked at him but tried to mask it for a smile when he remembered that they weren't alone, "Then you'll have to be," He flicked it up to level four, "Quiet, won't you?" He leaned away and glanced at the restaurant doors, waiting for the others to arrive so that he could get on with it as Paul jolted beside him and covered his mouth. 

“What are you whispering about?” Brian questioned, tilting his head in confusion. He really had no idea, and that made Paul feel more at ease than before - maybe nobody would notice. Hopefully. John wanted one of the others to notice, though, so they could know exactly what John was doing to Paul, exactly what he made him feel, so they could know he was his and nobody elses.

“Nothing important. Don’t worry, Bri,” John replied swiftly, his hand brushing over Paul’s crotch under the table. He knew what he was doing, John knew that he was making it so much harder for Paul to stay quiet and obey his orders - he  _ wanted  _ to punish Paul, to make him beg, to refuse him when he wanted to come, to tie him up, to fuck him - he  _ knew. _

He tried not to let out a whine and almost did, but stopped himself when he saw Bob walk through the door, followed by Ringo and George. John turned the setting down to level one, the lowest (ten was the highest) and Paul seemed to be more comfortable with that, as it wasn't that strong - he could deal with that, vibrations so tiny he couldn't tell they were there if he didn't focus on them. "Aye, lads, you took a while," John exclaimed and nodded at each of them. 

"We were just… having fun." Replied Ringo, making Bob almost splutter in shock and embarrassment as he heard the words. John noticed that both George and Ringo smirked down at him when he did that, making it obvious who bottomed - he almost laughed, but refrained. Paul, oblivious, was about to ask what they meant by that, but John somehow could tell and turned the vibration level up to four again. 

Paul made a humming noise and tried to pass it off as an amused hum after John had cracked a joke, but the older  _ knew  _ what it really was, the younger was trying so fucking hard not to make too much noise, to not let the others know that something was going on. It was his turn to splutter and blush when John spoke again, "Yeah, so were we, no worries, lads," His hand rested on Paul's thigh under the table, rubbing gently. 

It went silent. John turned the vibration down a little.

"You guys makin' any new albums?" An American accent flooded the silence, making everyone instantly perk up and join the conversation and begin talking all at once. Bob smiled fondly at the four, noticing that Brian hadn't spoken yet, he had been staring at John for a while now - he also noticed that John didn't know. 

"One at a time, please, you're being loud, people are looking." He spoke finally, eyes darting between the five of them, including Bob, with a certain authority, and he was right - people  _ were _ looking at them, multiple people gaping. Some people were whispering their names in shock, lots of 'is that Bob Dylan?' and 'holy shit, it's The Beatles!' ringing through the room. This happened a lot, though, so they were used to it, they were also thoroughly surprised nobody had come up to talk to them or to rip their hair out (something that had happened before, on many occasions, though it was mostly George and Paul) - or even to try and drag them off to have sex or something, the women always went crazy for them; sometimes it was great and sometimes it was not.

All John wanted was Paul.

"Yes we are, but it doesn't have a name yet," Paul said once everyone had quieted down, "One of the songs is 'Every Little Thing' and it's one of the only ones we've completed yet." He carried on, glaring at John when the older turned the level up - John whispered the number seven to him. Level seven. He let out a small ‘ah’ noise and covered his mouth as soon as it left him, looking around at the others - none of them noticed, though Bob was glancing at him with a weird look. That made Paul worry whether he knew, whether he could tell what was going on, and if he could, could the others? Would they all find out?

The thought horrified him.

He only noticed he was being spoken to when someone shook him. It was John and he was calling his name, “Paul?” He dragged his name out as if Paul was a child who he was talking to, trying to persuade him with chocolate or something like that. Paul hummed in question and looked up, realising the waiter was asking him what he wanted.

He cleared his throat and spoke up. Once everyone had ordered what they wanted, they all fell back into conversation, George and Ringo listening intently as Bob talked about something but, once again, Paul wasn’t really focused. John’s hand on his thigh was slowly moving up, closer to his crotch, and the vibrator was making him want to moan out loud, but obviously he couldn’t until they were alone. Pleasure was washing over him in waves, crashing down on him occasionally - God, he’d kill John for this. 

“I ran into Johnny Cash the other day,” He heard Bob say and then laugh, then he kept talking which caused more laughter, from not just him, from everyone else -  _ even  _ Brian but all his mind could think was  _ John, John, John, John  _ and  _ fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck- _

He bit his lip hard, almost drawing blood and accidently kicked Ringo, who was sat opposite him at the table when John turned the level up even more, possibly to a fucking  _ ten,  _ and then quickly turned it down again. “Aye, what was that for?” Ringo laughed when he blushed a deep red and stuttered a bit.

“I didn’t mean to,” Paul stuttered out as a reply, shifting nervously in his seat.

Ringo said something else but Paul did not hear it.

He could feel himself growing hot, his mind a swirling mess of curse words and images of John removing the vibrator and fucking him - he shifted in his seat once again, practically squirming with pleasure, suddenly becoming aware that the vibrator had been turned up very recently, he could hear a soft humming sound. He glanced around the table to check if anyone was watching him before he squeezed John’s thigh to get his attention, “I ca-can’t focus, Johnny,” He whispered to the older, grasping his hand, “Pl-please.”

“Please what, Paulie? What do you want me to do?” John replied, lacing his fingers with Paul’s weakly, “Just say if you want to leave, and we’ll leave, baby.” 

Then the vibrator turned off, and Paul sighed in relief, though he did miss the feeling - he supposed that just  _ having  _ the vibrator in him was enough and too much at the same time, and that was fine with him. But- and the vibartor was back on.  _ Oh, God,  _ Paul thought,  _ John is a fucking arsehole.  _ He gripped John’s hand tighter and bit into his other hand, trying to seem discreet, but  _ God,  _ the pleasure was just so much and he felt that he might explode if he couldn’t make a noise. He wanted to kiss John roughly, pull his trousers and boxers down and just sink down onto his dick, let him fuck him in front of everyone else and just show them that he belonged to John - but he couldn’t and he knew it.

Paul whimpered quietly and turned back to John, “Can we go?” He asked, looking at him with wide, tear-filled eyes - he looked so desperate, so needy, that John  _ couldn’t  _ say no, because them leaving would mean John fucking Paul again, and that heavily appealed to him.

He nodded, “Lads, we’re sorry, but we have to go. Paul’s not feeling well.” And they hurried away. The hotel they were staying at wasn’t that far away, so it didn’t take them long to get there at all, their walk all touches and desperate whines from Paul.

They got into their room and as soon as the door was locked, John threw Paul onto the bed and crawled on top of him, kissing him roughly. He pulled off both of their trousers and boxers, so fucking quickly that Paul wondered whether it was moving too fast, but then he felt John’s lips wrap around the head of his dick and  _ nope,  _ it was  _ perfect.  _ He moaned and tried to get his hands into John’s hair to push him down further, but one of the older’s hands were holding his own hands down, restraining him from touching John,  _ fuck. _

Just as he felt he was about to come, his moans becoming more high-pitched, John’s lips pulled away from his dick and then planted themselves on his lips, sharing a rough, sex-driven kiss - he really wanted John to take out the fucking vibrator, which was still on, and  _ fuck him. _

“Fuck me, Johnny, fuck me!” Paul yelled when John finally did pull out the vibrator, like he’d heard Paul’s wishes and thoughts. As soon as it was out and on the bed, John’s dick replaced it. They needed no lube as Paul was very stretched and lubed from the stupid fucking vibrator that had felt so good - John’s dick was better, his face close to his when he instantly began to move inside him. No lube, no prep.  _ Oh, God. _

“Oh, darling,” John groaned, burying his head in Paul’s neck as he began moving inside of him more, thrusts becoming quicker. Paul had noticed that John was hard while they were out and it was probably because Paul kept grabbing his dick while they were walking, more like rushing, back to the hotel. He almost laughed but then John hit his prostate dead on and he threw his head back, sobbing in pleasure. He’d waited so long for this, though it wasn’t too long, John had fucked him merely hours prior, but it had felt like a long time because  _ fuck,  _ he always missed the feeling of John inside him when he wasn’t, and when he was it was the best feeling ever.

John moved his head back up to kiss Paul, his tongue instantly pushing past his lips and into his mouth, their tongues swirling together in a frenzy of pleasure, swallowing eachother’s moans and silencing the other. When they pulled apart, John’s head moved back to his neck and he began licking the skin there, tasting the salty sweat that had lined his skin when they were out, the taste should have disgusted him but it didn’t. It was Paul, so he didn’t care.

Paul’s moans were gradually getting louder and breathier as he got closer to his climax, his legs wrapping around John’s waist to pull him closer like he had last time they fucked, a few hour ago, and memories flooded back.

“Next time, you’re wearing the lingerie,” John thrust his hips inside Paul once more and came inside him, his hot come filling Paul up again -  _ again. _

He pulled out when he realised that Paul had come also and was lying there, not moving. He thought that they could bath again tomorrow because the both of them were very tired and worn out from the day, and so John removed the rest of their clothes, threw them on the floor, then the vibrator, and lay down next to Paul, pulling him against his chest. He breathed in the smell of Paul’s hair and smiled fondly. He could get used to this.


End file.
